


Mirror and Candles

by NightlyEchoes



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Blood, Fictober, Fictober 2018, M/M, Post-Canon, Ryou dabbles with the occult, selfharm for ritualistic purposes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightlyEchoes/pseuds/NightlyEchoes
Summary: Day 1 of Fictober: "Can you feel this?"Ryou is running out of ideas how to summon a certain Spirit. But what's the harm in one more try?





	Mirror and Candles

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the long absence on here but life kept me busy. I'm trying to get back into writing regulary again.
> 
> By the way, the ritual described in this story is something I actually came across on the Internet. I just repurposed it a bit.

Ryou checked the set-up on the floor of his living room once more while he repeated the steps of the ritual to himself for the umpteenth time. He wanted everything to be perfect and therefore couldn't risk even the slightest mistake. There was no such thing as a second attempt, that much he knew. And it was not due to any possible dangers or because this ritual could only be performed once at a certain moment in time. No, it was something else altogether which let Ryou know that he would not try the same ritual twice. Something which had dug into his heart like a leech throughout the past few months: weariness. He gently placed another burning candle, white as snow, on the ground and watched a drop of hot wax fall onto the floor. It was impossible to say by now how many wax stains he had removed lately. He had stopped counting a long time ago.

With a final deep breath, Ryou steadied himself. It was now or never. 

He turned off the light in his room and kneeled down in front of the prepped up mirror. Ancient dust particles drew strange patterns onto its surface, enhanced by the warm glow of the candles. But it was the reflection of his own eyes which caught Ryou’s attention. In the dim light they appeared almost black. Inhuman. Haunted by a feverish desire which bordered on foolishness. 

With shaking hands, Ryou picked up one of the candles he had lit at first and carefully poured the molten wax over the flat surface of the mirror. He watched it run down the flat surface until it slowly began to harden. His reflection, split in half by the ugly trail of white, frowned at him. This wasn’t going to work. Not like this. 

He repeated the action with a few more candles, making sure to let the wax drip as close as possible to the previous one to create a small, semi-solid area which ended in long thin trails and distorted his image even further. Satisfied with the result, he carefully rearranged the candles in a circle around him and picked up the salt to scatter it around himself and the mirror. 

To his surprise, the instructions hadn't asked for a perfect circle, which was usually the case. But then he also didn’t fully understand the true purpose of the wax, especially since he could think of at least ten alternatives from the top of his head which would have been more effective. Either way, he didn't dare to change anything, a small amulet around his neck aside, which he wore for added protection. Something this whole ritual lacked in general, in Ryou’s opinion.

“Bakura!” His voice cut through the silence of the room, every trace of doubt perfectly hidden. “Spirit!” 

Since he didn't know Bakura’s actual name and therefore could only work with his own and, well, ‘Spirit’, it was unfortunately possible to invite any kind of spirit which lingered around. He could, as always, only hope that Bakura was feisty enough to be the one pushing through. If he was there…

“I call to you.”  King of Thieves. Stealer of Souls. Revenge Seeker. Survivor...  Ryou tried to mentally specify the identity he was looking for, to reach out with his thoughts, while he picked up a knife and carefully carved ‘Bakura’ into the hardened wax. He carelessly dropped it before picking up a clean one.  It is advised to leave this part out. Ryou snorted as he remembered the only attempt at getting some safety into the badly written instructions. But he didn't intend to play around. He wanted the real thing. He wanted it all. 

With a well-practised move he cut his arm, reopening a barely healed wound in the process, and pressed it against the mirror until he saw his warm blood trickle down the cool surface. It slowly ran along the cold wax and began to partly fill the carved lines, creating the impression as if Ryou had written the name in thick black ink with a malfunctioning pen.

“Oh spirit come, we beckon you. Share your stories, come until the morning light.”

Silence filled the room once more and Ryou became acutely aware of his own throbbing heart. Did it work? 

Nervously, he withdrew his arm again and leaned back to get a better view at the mirror while he waited for something to happen. Anything. But it was only more silence which responded to his yet unasked questions and he lowered his gaze in disappointment. Of course, it wouldn't work. The whole thing had been too much of a mess to begin with. Amateurish even. A waste of… 

“You never give up, do you?” 

Ryou’s eyes darted to the mirror but he only saw himself staring back. While the candlelight emphasised the dark lines under his eyes and made him appear almost dead, the image in the mirror was still him even though heavily distorted by the mixture of wax and blood.

“You're a fool, landlord.” 

He quickly turned around to find the source of the voice, losing balance and landing on his hands in the process. It had come from behind him but there was nothing but darkness. A few of the candles had been snuffed out and now filled the room with the distinct smell. 

“Spirit?” 

The gentle rustling of his clothes as he sat down again, was all he heard. Was his mind really so exhausted, so focused on this one goal, that he even began to hear voices? No, it couldn't be…

After reassuring himself that he was indeed alone, he faced the mirror again. 

“Don't. Move.” Cold air brushed against his neck and made him shiver. He blinked. It was almost as if he saw something move in the mirror’s reflection. Above his right shoulder. 

“Bakura?” 

“Yes, yes. It's me.” He sounded tired. Or bored. It was impossible for Ryou to tell the difference. “Are you happy now?” 

“It… I can't believe it worked!” Excited, Ryou turned his head to finally face the other whom he now saw in the reflection of the mirror but was, once again, faced with nothing but his living room. “Oh…” His eyes sought the mirror again where he saw Bakura settle down next to him, visibly amused. “You're not…”

“I  am  here. In a way.” 

Ryou watched Bakura lean towards the mirror before it fogged up and both, his reflection and the spirit with whom he had shared a body for so long, disappeared from his view. Slowly, a curved line appeared as if someone was drawing on it with their finger. It was followed by another curve. Letters.  SCARED? 

Ryou couldn't suppress a giggle. “We both know it takes more than  that to scare me.”

He wiped the mirror with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, not minding that he got blood on it in the process. It did, however, annoy him that he couldn't see Bakura clearly anymore, having smeared the surface. 

“Why can't I see you here?”

“Your pretty little spell simply isn't made for that. Where did you find it anyway? Shittysummons.com?” Bakura gestured vaguely at the mirror. “It's so messy. You seriously disappoint me, landlord. I expected some pentagrams and sacrificed virgins. Or a goat, at least.” 

Ryou let out a long sigh. “I will keep that in mind for the next time.” He didn’t want to mention that he had in fact used pentagrams before. Among a lot of other stuff. Some more unorthodox than others, but the blood used had always been his (a fact Ryou also didn't intend to change. He had some standards, after all, when it came to dealing with the occult). Bakura had just never reacted to any of them. Until now. 

Without a warning, Ryou yelped and sprung up, barely missing a candle. Something had trailed along his spine and startled him. The touch light as a feather, despite the thick sweater he wore.

“What the hell did you do that for?” 

“Just testing something.” Bakura chuckled. “This might actually be more amusing than I thought.” 

“That felt  weird !” Ryou complained before sitting down again, careful to not let Bakura get too close to his back. 

“Scared now?” Bakura wagged his eyebrows playfully, a gesture Ryou almost missed as he moved a few candles out of reach.

“No. But I am starting to regret bringing you here.” 

“To your fancy apartment?”

“Shut up. Just be glad that I…” Ryou fell silent, his gaze wandering back to the candles which flickered slightly whenever Bakura moved. “Where were you anyway? You know, after…”

“I lost to the Pharaoh?” Bakura finished with a huff. “Why do you care? Did you miss me?” 

Ryou’s eyes sought Bakura’s in the mirror and a faint smile appeared on his face.

“Maybe.”

“Shouldn't you be glad that I'm gone? That you can  finally live your life in peace? Without having to worry about your precious friends? It's what you always wanted, after all.” 

“I know,” Ryou muttered.

“Then why?”

“It gets lonely. And no one knows me the way you…” He shook his head as if to shake off some unpleasant memories. “Nevermind. Hey, can I try something?”

Bakura raised an eyebrow in confusion at the other’s change in behavior, but simply shrugged. “Pff, I'm all yours.” 

“Hold out your hand.”

He did as he was told and watched with interest as Ryou tried to place his hand on Bakura’s. Even though the task in itself was simple enough, it was complicated by the fact that they had to manage it only by viewing the mirror and that Bakura wasn’t a fully physical being. But, after a moment, Ryou could feel a strange warmth pressing against his palm.

“Can you feel this?” He smiled happily at the spirit, who stared at the hand covering his. 

Bakura, while having a vague sense of something being there, felt nothing else and hadn't done so since he had lost his final game against the Pharaoh. In the beginning he had assumed that it was the Gods’ way of showing him some mercy, a welcomed relief to having felt too much for too long, but now, it seemed like torture to him. Now, that he actually craved closeness and something, anything, besides the void which had surrounded his soul for so long, he could touch but not be touched in return. He was still nothing more but a ghost across time and space. A smirk appeared on his face at the realisation of this, exposing a row of sharp, white teeth. If that's how it was going to be, then so be it. He had gotten used to worse circumstances.

“Of course, I do. But I doubt that you brought me back to get all touchy.” With one quick movement Bakura withdrew his hand. “So, let's talk. We only have time until the sun rises.” 


End file.
